


Promises of Grande Reunion

by icarusforgotten



Series: Grande Reunion [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, but there is mention of blood and gore, not really violence, well not much really but i dont want anyone getting triggered??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusforgotten/pseuds/icarusforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wade, can you please be serious for just one second?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises of Grande Reunion

“Wade, can you please be serious for _just one second_?”

Peter struggled to stay upright, legs shaking and vision blurred, head whizzing with the sound of distant sirens and an ocean’s breeze.

“I’m as serious as it gets, Petey. Not as serious as this author is about taking you away from me, but who am I to stop creative licensing? Besides, I’m sure that we’ll be reunited in something fluffy as compensation for all this angst. We always end up somewhere nice together after one of us dies.”

Peter’s head was throbbing. It had become increasingly difficult to breathe, and the blood pooling in his lungs was not helping any. “Wade,” he gurgled, knees buckling and dropping to the ground, “I need you to go for help.”

Wade frowned. “Didn’t you read the part about hearing the sirens? Or was that all in your head?” He paused to tap his fingers dramatically against his chin. “It’s kinda ironic if you think about it, that you would start to have hallucinations in your head, all things considered. I’d still be the fan favourite, of course, but having you share my crazy would make things a little more interesting.”

“Wade, please stop.” Peter coughed violently, blood spurting from his mouth. He turned to his side, puking up any remnants of the lunch he’d shared with Wade not twenty minutes ago.

Wade rubbed his hand soothingly across his back, murmuring quiet reassurances. Peter was scooped off the ground, and he somehow registered that Wade was taking them in the direction of their apartment. He tugged at Wade’s sleeve and croaked out that they were going the wrong way.

“Why of course we’re going the wrong way! This wouldn’t be angst if everything played out to be overly happy and expected,” Wade said cheerfully.

Peter felt sick, and not just because he was coughing up blood faster than he could breathe. He was dying, and Wade was taking it as a joke, having another one of his strange episodes and not giving a single damn that Peter was slowly sinking into a hemorrhagic coma. “Hospital,” he tried again, voice barely above a whisper.

“Face it, Pete. Even if I would take you to a hospital – and I totally would, for the record, if this author wasn’t dead set on shoveling out the feels – there’s no way that you’d be able to make it. You’re the science nerd, you should know that with the amount of blood loss you’ve already suffered, your vital organs are taking one hell of a hit. Sucks to be you right now, I guess. That’s not a fun way to go, believe you me.” They made it to the apartment. Wade placed Peter on their bed, humming a quiet lullaby and wrapping his arms around him to hold him close. “I’m just gonna keep you company and wish you goodnight before I see you again in another fic.”

Peter  clung to Wade, shaking. “Wade,” he sobbed brokenly, “I’m _never_ going to see you again, don’t you get it?” He got caught in another violent coughing fit. “I’m _dying_ , I’ll be _gone_. In case you’ve forgotten, I _can’t_ regenerate!” It was getting so much harder to keep his eyes open.

He was distantly aware of fingers stroking through his hair.

“But technically you can. As long as the fandom exists, we’ll never die. Don’t you see, Pete? We’ll always be together.”

Peter struggled against him, against the fatigue. He tried to sit up, but the dizzying weakness blackening his vision combined with Wade’s arms holding him down made it impossible. He needed to call 911, he needed to get help. He needed to stop wasting his energy on panicking, and on wondering why Wade was just letting him die – _forcing_ him to die – and kick into survival mode so that he could live to see another day.

But he was too weak. And everything was getting to be so cold. He could barely feel Wade’s lips as they pressed kisses against him. The sound of sirens was getting louder, and there was a feint smell of something burning in the background. His mouth tasted heavily of copper. The vessels in his head throbbed menacingly, and he could feel the pace of his heart beginning to slow. It contracted harshly, jumping like a frog in a sealed frying pan.

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His throat was dry, and he lacked the energy to form the required shapes with his lips.

“I know, bay boy, I know,” Wade whispered in his ear, holding Peter closer. “I love you too.”

His already darkened vision blurred, and warm moisture trickled down his cheeks.

He tried to hold onto Wade, hold onto _life_ , but the strength had already left his fingers.

Peter just lay there, with Wade’s voice whispering painful promises of grand reunion, before everything descended into an ominous blackness.


End file.
